Conclusion
by Nesserace
Summary: In the one-year period between the Orcs' release from Internment Camps, and Thrall's leading the migration to Kalimdor, there was great unrest in the human nations. Rating for later chapters.
1. Default Chapter

_Conclusion_

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_Seti's eyes flashed as she stepped closer to her goal. The only thing that separated her from her bane was a simple tavern wall. She strode towards the door with unmatched casualty, a haughty smirk threatening to overtake her face. _

"Halt!" Her movement stopped abruptly as an unfamiliar voice commanded her to stop her advance. She blinked once, then slowly turned around to face the speaker.

She tilted her head curiously for a moment, then her eyes widened in unmatched surprise as a blaster rifle steadied its barrel against her head.

Too late, she realized, that not all keepers of the peace were of the Holy Order...

* * *

The professor's voice rambled on, and Sylvia felt like she was dying. Her head against her academy desk, the older man's voice flew in one ear and out the other, her brain only catching little snippets of the lecture.

"In such a world of desolace and treachery… a haven for creatures…"

The young human wrinkled her nose, lazily sliding back in her seat, pushing herself away from the desk. Her professor caught her slow movement, arching an eyebrow in her direction as he gave her a sharp glare.

Sylvia groaned silently, catching the hint. Her hand gripped the side of her wooden desk, pulling herself upright again. She cupped her chin with her palm, leveling her gaze at the professor.

"The once-fertile lands of Draenor were blackened and charred with their dark magic," he continued with his lesson. He suddenly paused, an aged gaze sweeping over his small class. "_Sylvia_, _pay attention_!" he snapped.

The short-lived slumber that the student had been enjoying mere moments ago was shattered. Gray eyes now focused on her teacher; she decided that it was going to be a long lesson.

The Gilneas academy was large, considering which kingdom it was from. The long-time stereotype of King Greymane's land was one of stupidity and idly-used military power. Nevertheless, if its denizens put their mind to their studies, their intelligence could match that of any other kingdom… even though their confidence might be low. (It was rather embarrassing to visit a political conference while representing Graymane..)

This academy in particular was a preparatory institute; its students later went to study in places of higher learning, such as Azeroth or Dalaran. And even though its applicants were always carefully observed and tested before being admitted, there always seemed to be one who managed to slip by their close surveillance.

In this case, it was Sylvia Mackna'ar. The daughter of some far-out blacksmith in the inner city, she had already earned herself a delinquent's résumé. She was often caught skipping out on classes, zoning out during lectures, and she rarely showed any interest in the hands-on laboratory magic work.

This, as any one person could guess, annoyed her instructors to no end. Through some blatant miracle, she was still passing all her classes and, by protocol, that meant that she couldn't be kicked out.

"She's been dodging arrows for over six months!" Professor Shil raged. He was walking beside the schoolmaster at a rather quick pace. His heavy footsteps could be heard echoing throughout the corridors, the sound only multiplied by the older man doing his best to keep up with him.

The schoolmaster was an elderly man, bustling and hustling his way through life. He was balding, and whatever hair he had left was a dusty gray. Long, billowing robes hid an aging, frail body and, in the process, managed to make him look like a peasant.

He was trailing behind Shil, idly noting that the teacher was becoming angrier; the angrier the teacher became, the faster he walked.

The schoolmaster sighed, more out of fatigue than irritation. "Mind you, she does manage to ace her studies.."

Professor Shil let out a roar. "Do you think I _care_? She's good for nothing! I don't know how your people managed to accept her. _Are you blind_?"

Again, the schoolmaster exhaled heavily, compulsively glancing into each of the schoolrooms they passed. In some, students stared, wide-eyed, at the passersby's. In others, more advanced students did nothing more than glance to the side before continuing their assignment.

Shin's face shone with triumph as he made a wide gesture into one of the higher classes. "This is what she _should_ be like! While the rest of her class works, she takes naps."

"Perhaps that's how she learns," the schoolmaster said slowly.

"Perhaps that's how she-- _URGH_!" Shil huffed. He mumbled more profanity and curses under his breath, crossing his arms and turning in quickened circles. He bit his lip for a while, staring at the floor and tapping his foot impatiently as he sorted through several thoughts. "At least take her from my class," he breathed through clenched teeth.

The schoolmaster paused for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I'll see if I can find an opening…"

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**A/N: **Wow. This was a pretty lame default chapter. > Ah, well. That means that my next chapter will have more character introductions, and the main storyline should begin to unfold. Yay! Again, apologies for my lame writing. >.> Oof. 


	2. Chapter One

_Conclusion_

_ chapter one _

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"That's gross," Sylvia said flatly.

"I wasn't _finished_," Yaddic said flatly. He looked up from his squatted position to stare at the girl adjacent from him. "Haven't you been paying--"

Sylvia interrupted before the man could finish. "It looks like it just came from the butcher shop…"

Yaddic clenched his jaw, giving his eyes a heavy, sarcastic roll. His childhood friend, the blacksmith's daughter, had shown increasing signs of laziness as she grew older. Even now, in the sunbathed meadow outside the city gates, she appeared more like a childish vagabond than an award-winning student.

He had been attempting to show Sylvia Mackna'ar his latest undertaking. He was renowned for his casting, and always new ideas for his spellwork consumed his time. He, of all people, enjoyed the tantalizing task of creating his own trademark magicks. From the delicate planning through the complex framework, he was always eager to see his latest creation come to life.

With another sigh, he flopped down beside her, ignoring the feel of the warm grass on his neck as he stared into the clear afternoon sky. Years ago, when he and Sylvia had been children, the two had 'adventured' outside the city in order to 'claim land' for themselves. Laughing, the two had used their 'swords' (sharpened sticks) to fight the 'orcs' (overgrown bushes) in what had been an 'epic battle'.

Now, all the bushes had been trampled, and most of the wood had been cleared out to make the Orcish internment camps.

"_Hellooo_?" Sylvia's high, demanding voice sounded. "Are you listening?"

Yaddic blinked. "Yes.. something about the butcher shop..?"

The girl pursed her lips and rolled over, raising herself to her feet. She stretched her arms and legs, managing to shoot a scowl in Yaddic's direction before squatting down in front of him again. "I was asking how your apprenticeship was going. By the Light.. I try to be nice and you just _brush me off_…" Sylvia's voice, although still littered in humor, trailed off.

In turn, the man shook his head. "You know, I'm beginning to understand why there's such little respect for raven-heads."

Sylvia's eyes blazed, and she shoved her face mere centimeters from Yaddic's. "Black hair is _not_ a sin."

Yaddic flashed a lopsided grin before falling onto his back again. He rolled over onto his side, cupping the back of his head in his palms. "It depends on who you're talking to…"

Of course, the light-haired human's quiet afterthought had been an allusion to the Paladins of the Holy Order. Their lot in life seemed to be locating any and all forms of sacrilege… it wasn't a bad notion, per say, if they didn't take things so… seriously. How many times had daily activities been halted due to a town sweep? Or extra funds used up for a useless exorcist's visit?

A single, wispy cloud passed over the sun, enveloping the grassy hills in its shade. Yaddic shivered involuntarily, completely unprepared for the chill it brought. He opened his eyes again, staring skyward. It was a rather thick cloud, to be sure, and the amount of shade it created was almost illogical. Nevertheless, as he felt himself adapt to the lack-of sun, it wasn't as bad.

"Sylvia--" he began to say.

The girl interrupted him again, this time on what seemed to be a more mechanical basis. Whenever he used that tone of voice, he was usually accusing someone. "It's not _me_."

Yaddic paused, confused. "Excuse me?"

Sylvia elaborated. "I'm not doing it. I don't do spells, I don't do shade. Okay?"

There was another pause as Yaddic took in her words. His face contorted for a moment as he sorted out her brief explanation. "I wasn't saying it was your fault… it's the cloud's."

Yet another long silence passed, and Yaddic began to wonder if Sylvia was becoming mute. Her words, although loud and obnoxious, were still rather sparse. He did his best to break the uncomfortable silence with a simple question that _always_ turned the tide of conversation.

"How's school?"

He saw Sylvia's face take on a bland stare, and he couldn't help but smile lightly to himself. It never failed.

"Would you believe that the schoolmaster has the nerve to transfer my class schedule? How could he? I was just beginning to adapt to that Shil guy's teaching style, and BANG--" she slapped her hands together for effect. "-- He's got me a different instructor."

"I can't imagine why," Yaddic answered, sarcasm evident in his low tone.

"Did you know that the orcs came from _offworld_?" she asked suddenly, her voice ablaze in interest.

Yaddic rolled his eyes. This topic had been shown positive by the Orcs _long ago_. There was always elder members of the green-skinned race who enjoyed rambling about their past. If you could convince them, even a human could converse with one of the Orcish prisoners. However, it usually involved a prolonged feeling of discomfort, as the red-tinted glares of the inmates usually tempered whatever joy you were getting from the lectures. Yaddic himself had sat in on several of these small learning experiences, and much to his surprise, had enjoyed them to the fullest extent.

He answered carefully, as not to offset his friend's newfound passion. "I believe I've heard it mentioned once or twice."

Sylvia beamed. "But they left." She twirled around several times in a giddy fashion. She laughed, a sound that made her seem even more youthful. "We're not sure why."

Yaddic nodded politely. Very rarely would one hear the Mackna'ar girl speak so highly of what she was learning in class. When she did, however, it came as a relief to some, a bane to others. As the years had gone on, it became apparent that her dwindling love for knowledge could only be re-sparked by the mention of the orcs.

Her nonstop chatter of the green-skinned brutes had been unnerving at first, but as it went on, people began to simply smile and nod, thankful that she was getting _something_ out of her classes.

Unlike Sylvia, Yaddic had a passion for learning. Yet like his friend, he viewed the orcs in an entirely different light than the rest of the human nations. There always seemed to be something more. Something… _elusive_ about them.

During one of the two's more intellectual conversations, Sylvia had confided in Yaddic about her personal view of orcs.

"I love their eyes," she had breathed lowly. "Battle-hardened, yet so sad. And they're _red_…"

"Yes," was Yaddic's answer. He had blown out a long, heavy breath. "I'm going to ask them about their red eyes."

Indeed, he had asked them. An elder Orc, going by the name of Broxigar. He had given the boy an odd stare and didn't answer.

Yaddic _never did_ find out why their eyes were red.

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**A/N:** Upon reading my last chapter, I realized I spaced out on adding a disclaimer. So! This is a reminder that I don't own Warcraft, Blizzard does... and thus I'm making no money off this creation. Don't sue me! (... unless you LIKE corny fantasy novels and sci-fi paperbacks...)

Yep, I got to introduce Yaddic. He's one of my favorite characters. Then again, so is Sylvia... I love her persona. cough Anyway, I was going to do something with that "Seti" character mentioned in the default chapter, but I didn't get around to it. Oops. So! I hope you enjoyed it; update's coming around soon. >. 


	3. Chapter Two

_Conclusion_

_chapter two_

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The heart of the Gilneas academy was in its military wing. For years, retired service General Bale Morrow had slaved at constructing a proper scholastic framework for the program, and under the heavy rule of Greymane, it had thrived. General Morrow had been an enlisted officer under the king, thus receiving both his endorsement and his funding.

That was almost fifteen years ago; now, the retired soldier sat at his desk shuffling through papers and reports. He had long ago been convinced that the Fates were ironic by nature, and that the creatures bore some kind of grudge against him. _Imagine_, he often thought to himself, _the infallible general teaching schoolchildren._ It was disgusting.

The life of a soldier was one of hardship, and Morrow enjoyed showing haughty students how unfit they were to become one. Male, female… it didn't matter. As long as he was able to _break_ them, he would accept their class applications. And many applications he would receive; being the largest program on campus brought the class renown, even though most students barely stayed the entire year.

Paperwork… more paperwork… the large stacks of files and loose-leaf papers on his desk reminded Morrow of his glory days, when he would make a proud stand for his country and race. He recalled the feel of a sword in his hand… how _right_ it had always been… the thrust-and-give sensation it created while slipping through a green-skinned infidel's chest…

Two loud knocks at his wooden office door alerted him to his lieutenant's presence outside.

"Come," he replied deeply.

The lieutenant turned the knob to peek only his head inside. "Sir, there's a class transfer notice from the schoolmaster here waiting for your approval."

Morrow held out his hand palm-up to indicate that he wanted the file brought to him. The lower-ranking officer complied, darting in and out of the room with the same timid nature of a mouse.

"Whose is it?" Morrow rumbled, catching the lieutenant boy before he could reach the doorway again.

The young man shifted his weight to his left foot, eyes darting around nervously. "It's, erm, a female's, Sir. I don't recall her name."

Morrow frowned at the boy and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Begone." He spoke the word like some kind of spell, allowing it to linger in the eerily silent office air long after the lieutenant had scurried away.

Without giving much of a thought to the sealed package itself, Morrow ripped it open to reach the papers nestled inside. He kicked back in his wooden seat and read the file out loud. He projected his voice so any passerby outside could clearly understand his words.

"Sylvia Mackna'ar," he began.

Twenty minutes later, when he had finished scanning her sources, her condensed history, and past class progress reports, he let out a mighty sigh. The general sat up in his chair and allowed the papers to flop lifelessly in front of him. With a smirk, he rubbed his hands together.

This would be fun.

On the other side of the academy campus, Sylvia was waiting (rather impatiently) for Yaddic to return from his weekly visit to the orcish internment camps. Once again, he had denied her request to come along, leaving her in the mess hall to do nothing but nibble on whatever midday meal they were serving.

Clouds had been gathering overhead all morning, and now they began to pour forth their bounty. To avoid dealing with wet clothing, Sylvia remained in the large building. She mulled around with anyone who looked interesting, and managed to find a sympathetic soul of whom she could voice her problems to.

She was planning to meet Yaddic at the Great Hall building once the rain stopped, and now she waited at the large open windows for the opportunity to dash across the grassy mall. Sylvia directed her angry glares skyward, as if they had the mystical power to make the sun shine through the clouds.

A commotion near the mess hall doors caught her attention, and the black-haired female tore her eyes away from the weather. A burly, hunched-over figure tore through the rain and into the hall's foyer. "Sylvia Mackna'ar?" the man's deep voice boomed.

Sylvia jolted upright. "Eh?" she breathed, confused.

A smaller man tapped the larger male on his shoulder and jerked his head in the young woman's direction. Sylvia watched as the pair made their way through the sparse crowd and towards her.

Upon reaching their destination, the larger of the two threw back his dark cloak to reveal a graying head of hair and proud facial features. Sylvia didn't bother to hide the look of confusion that crept across her face, and allowed her dark eyebrows to furrow and her gray eyes to stare.

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**A/N: **I wrote this one somewhere in Ontario during vacation, so my deepest apolgies if it's weak. xD You know, after completely forgetting that you had a fanfiction going on for almost six months, it was kind of a memory trip trying to get myself back into the "Warcraft" mindset. Considering, however, that I was only two installments into "Conclusion", it wasn't exactly the most difficult thing in the world.

And as for the required disclaimer: "I don't own nuthin'." EXCEPT, perhaps, certain characters here and there. I want a nickel ever time you mentions their names.


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